


Rise

by Black_Crystal_Dragon



Series: The Dead Speak [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Force Ghost(s), Gen, Injury, Missing Scene, Not A Fix-It, Pain, Redeemed Ben Solo, Spoilers, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, but sort of a fix-it in that it fills a gap in a satisfying way?? I don't know, mention of Emperor Palpatine, mention of rey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Crystal_Dragon/pseuds/Black_Crystal_Dragon
Summary: There was pain, which meant he was alive.Missing scene set during the final showdown inThe Rise of Skywalker.
Series: The Dead Speak [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604008
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Rey isn’t the only one the Jedi of the past speak to on Exegol …
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta, [Ice_Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Elf/pseuds/Ice_Elf).

There was pain, which meant he was alive.

It was everywhere: his ribs with every breath; his shoulder; his hip; the opposite leg. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He was lying twisted on a narrow sloping ledge, the rock digging into his back. His fingers twitched against gritty stone on one side and an abyss on the other. He could taste blood. Lightning flashed through his closed lids and the air screamed in protest. The chemical scent of Exegol’s atmosphere burned the back of his throat, more bitter even than his regrets. He’d tried and he’d failed. Palpatine had ripped out what little strength he had left and thrown him into a hole to die. Now Rey was alone and there was nothing he could do.

Someone said his name.

He opened his eyes. The sky was filled with bolts of electricity, bright as his uncle’s sabre, arcing into the dark above in a constant surge unlike anything he’d seen before. There were ships up there, Resistance ships. They were falling. The Final Order had won.

The same voice spoke again: “They have not won yet.”

He screwed his eyes shut. The sour grip of disappointment tightened on his throat. Of all the times for the Jedi of the past to come to him, now? Now, when it was too late?

“The Emperor and his hold over you kept you beyond our reach,” the voice said, as if they’d heard his thoughts, “And it is never too late. Not for the Resistance, as it was not for the Rebellion. Not for you, as it was not for me.”

Frowning pulled at the bruises on his face. He knew that voice from somewhere. Not so much the sound of it, but the intonation. He forced his eyes open in the hopes there might be a visible manifestation but there was no one there, no one but the far-off stars beyond a flickering veil of lightning.

“Your actions today have made me as proud as you always wished I would be,” the voice told him.

The rasp of his breathing hitched. It couldn’t be. Except, he understood suddenly where he’d heard the voice before: modulated and deepened as if through the filter of a black helmet and echoing inside his own head. Just like this and yet nothing at all like it, because this wasn’t Palpatine, issuing orders in the voice of his one-time apprentice. This wasn’t Vader. This was –

“Ben,” his grandfather said in a voice far too kind to belong behind the mask he knew so well. “There is more yet to be done. You must rise.”

Other voices started to whisper in the darkness, calling out his name, offering him the promise that he was not alone. _Rise_ , they said, not as a command to be obeyed but as encouragement. _Rise, Ben. Rise._

Moving hurt even worse than lying still, but he focused on the voices and struggled over from his back onto his side. The sharp bands of pain around his chest tightened with every breath, radiating outwards from the place where a jut of rock had clipped him on the way down. He ignored it, dug his fingers into the ashen dirt and pulled himself away from the edge, fought his way to his hands and knees. He crawled to the jagged cliff face.

“Rise, Ben,” his grandfather said to him, so he gritted his teeth and reached up, found a handhold and heaved himself to his feet.

Agony shot through his leg. Worse than a blaster bolt. Worse than the burn of a sabre. It had to be broken. He clung to the dusty stone to stay upright, eyes screwed shut, breath coming in sharp gasps. The voices of the Jedi had returned to silence. All he could hear was the buzz of imminent blackout ringing in his ears. But Rey needed him. He could feel it. She was still alive, somewhere up there, surrounded by the flash and howl of the lightning. Afraid, but finding courage. Refusing to let go of hope.

“Rise,” whispered the ghost of his mother, so faintly that it might only have been his imagination or another memory.

He opened his eyes and reached for the next handhold.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never written a fic because I got unreasonably enraged about a tweet before! And I never thought I’d write a fic specifically about Ben Solo. But here we are.
> 
> In case it’s unclear: the Jedi in this fic are NOT encouraging Ben to go and sacrifice himself to save Rey. They want him to get up there in time to face off against Palpatine alongside her. However, bad injuries mean slow climbing, and he’s too late. (Or insert your favourite AU ending here!)


End file.
